Part 3: Sold
Mr. Grey arrived with a new girl. He carried her in his arms. She was apparently unconscious. Her arms and legs dangling as he walked. Her head bent back and eyes closed. Mr. Grey put her down on the table in front of my cabinet. The same table, I was laid on two weeks ago. I still tried to keep track of the time even though if it was to no use – and albeit I somehow didn't care anymore. I knew I had been forced to be a living doll. And I knew I would be sold as soon as Mr. Grey had the right buyer. My concern was more like whether I would make as fine an appearance as sister No. 1. Still there was nothing I could do about it. So since I accepted to be a doll, I just wanted to look as beautiful as possible.
The new girl was black. She was indeed very beautiful. Fine facial features. And her hair was something else. Afro braids. And as far as I could see it was her own hair. Not extensions. For a moment I wondered if Mr. Grey would try to comb her hair. But on the other hand, I was sure, she had been chosen for her type. And the hairstyle was not one you set every morning. That's for sure. - This girls body frame was even smaller than mine. She didn't look like a child though. I think she was about 20 like the rest of us. And Mr. Grey apparently had a market for a “chokolate girl” too.
The girl was still unconscious when Mr. Grey gave her the injection, which I remember gave me a tickling feeling and made me immobile in the first place. I felt sorry for the poor girl. I knew she would wake up and discover that she couldn't move at all. I wished I somehow could comfort her, and say it was all right – which it definitely not was. But knowing how lonely she would feel when her situation dawned for her – I would have cried – if only I could.
Mr. Grey undressed her very carefully just like he undressed me back then. He treated her as if she was made of china. When all her outfit was removed, he took some notes and then left her alone. While he worked on his computer I watched the girl, to see if there was a movement or something. In the meantime I admired her perfect body. Even though she was size small, her proportions were perfect. Slender not skinny. Well padded in the right places. Maybe a little top heavy. But just a little. Breasts looked firm. No sagging there. Big areolas and protruding nipples. Maybe her size was 32 B. They looked bigger on her small frame though. I wished I had those. My bra size is only 34 A.
My thoughts were suddenly interrupted. Her eyes rolled frantically in the eyeholes. She was panicking. Now she was awake and had discovered that she couldn't move. Eventually her eyes calmed and focused on the mirror. She was placed exactly as I was and was facing the huge mirror, where she could see her fellow sufferers. It dawned on me that she was staring at me, so I tried to make some signals – moving my eyes up and down – and sideways. So she could perceive that I was alive and aware. She mimicked my signals, and then moved her eyes to the other sisters and the two empty cabinets. I wish I could explain the situation to her. But of course I could do nothing really.
Mr. Grey returned and began to examine her. It was weird to watch the things done to another girl that had happened to me two weeks ago. There were differences of course. The new girl was still unconscious when he brought her in – and when he stripped her – and when he injected the drug. And when he said something intended for her it was in French. That puzzled me. He must have known who she was before abducting her. Maybe followed her and studied her before deciding for her. - Did he “study” me like that before the abduction? - Planning in detail when and where to make his capture...
The examination and the following cleansing was executed exactly as with me. She had nailpolish both on toe and fingernails. A nice shade of pink. It was removed. And as with me every little spot of skin was washed down thoroughly. All makeup was removed and she was dried under the lamps as I was. I saw her eyes rolling in her head more than once. I felt sorry for her, knowing what she had to go through.
Just like in my case she was oiled, equipped with IV and waste-bags and finally placed in cabinet No. 5. - Doll No. 5 had arrived. As usual Mr. Grey had made all his notes. And from time to time updated his PC. After placing sister 5 in her new home he brought the makeup tray and gave her a finish. As I had guessed he left alone her hair, apart from adding something that caused it to shine even more. In my thoughts I offered my new sister welcome. Sister No. 5. Mr. Grey locked the cabinet and walked to his computer. Just when he passed me he knocked lightly on the glass with a fingernail. Smiling and winking as in a private joke. I wondered...
Anyway - we were now again four girls in the cabinets. Cabinet No. 1 was still empty, and had been so for a week now. I think my guesses are correct, he needs a new blond nordic type 20 year old beautiful girl to fill out the space. This man was some spider I thought. But at this time I was unable to be angry with him. Strange enough I desperately wanted him to touch me. And touch me even more than he did during the evening examinations. I feel so excited from the lightest touch. Yesterday I was close to an orgasm just because he thoroughly examined my breasts. He pinched and squeezed as if he was searching for tumors. I've always been sensitive and ticklish on the breasts. But never this much and in this particular way. I was close to explosion. And could only express it with my eyes which I am sure betrayed me. And I am certain Mr. Grey noticed it. He looked at me with a satisfied smile and continued his examination.
These days I got my fair share of orgasms produced by the dildo I was riding. I was enjoying all of them even though I never before had had so many orgasms in so short time. And I still wanted more. I was embarrassed to admit it, but that is how it was. When I got my orgasms I didn't feel bored while I waited for the next. Yes I think I was becoming a maniac. A nymphomatic maniac. Sometimes I wondered if it would be possible to bring me back to what I was before. And I was not sure I would want that to happen.
Sister No. 1 has been sold. Her cabinet is empty. Sister No. 5 has arrived. It would be logical to fill the empty cabinet again. Maybe Mr. Grey was watching and tracking a new girl somewhere. Thinking of that, I began to wonder if I am the first girl in my cabinet. Was there another No. 4 before me? I knew only of the three that disappeared from my area. But Mr. Grey could have hunting areas in many places and far away too. Maybe even in different countries. He could have been running his secret business for years. I know of many “missing” posters around the high schools and universities. And I have seen them on the Internet too. Most people say that the missing girls just ran off with a boyfriend. But maybe some of them – or maybe many of them had been dollificated and sold in Mr. Grey’s shop. Thinking of it – I didn't even know if I were still located in my own area. I have no idea how long I was unconscious or sleeping after the abduction, and then how far I was transported. For that matter I could have been brought across national borders.
Mr. Grey interrupted my thoughts. He seemed very eager and happy when he opened the door to my cabinet. And a moment I felt like a dirty whore because I wanted him to touch me anywhere. A small part of my brain still protested, but was drowned by the emotions when he dismantled all the hoses and lifted me out. Again, I was put on the table. And again, I was washed and dried. But this time I was smeared and massaged with some synthetic substance that smelled of chemicals.
The massage took all my attention though. So I did not worry the least about what he rubbed into my skin. As I had wished for he did. He touched me simply everywhere. And I had a few violent and wonderful orgasms. I was still euphoric when he mounted me in the cabinet again. Later in the evening when he had left the basement, I thought about the treatment. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I could not see the big difference. First and foremost, I could smell the difference. My body smelled different. Not pleasant. Rather chemical.
Although I was completely gone in my body's reactions, I could easily remember what he did to me. The most remarkable thing was that he rubbed and massaged the substance into all my holes. Even in the nostrils and mouth. It did not taste of anything special, but it felt a little weird. I could not feel any difference in my lower holes. But I dare say, that I could feel something when he added the substance. Even when he worked in my mouth I felt some excitement. And somehow felt my mouth and tongue slightly different. I wished I could use my hands to feel my skin and my tongue to explore my mouth...
In the mirror I could see that I was still shiny – but not the same shine. Not the wet-oil-shine anyway. It was more like silk or plastic shine. Thinking of plastic – that would be nice. After all I am a doll – right? - When I looked after I thought was missing a beauty spot. It was still there though, but not so clear. It was as if it had been bleached. I looked for more of my flaws, but it was not easy on the distance, but my impression was, that my skin had become closer to perfect. So what was it I had been covered with?
- - -
Next morning was back to routine. Mr. Grey paid each of us a “visit” - sending us a smile. I thought the smile for me was larger than usual. Like he was expecting something. And then he marched off. The day went as usual with the random dildo excitements. And me in “waiting mode”. The evening began as usual too, but after the obligatory examinations Mr. Grey gave me another treatment like the day before. The massage was heavenly, and I came many times. There was nothing left of the anger and embarrassment. I just enjoyed every second. After he had finished the massage he did something strange. He brought a paint bucket and a brush and started to paint different parts of my body. Ankles, knees, wrists, elbows, waist and neck. He painted invisible rings around those parts. From the smell I suppose it was the same chemical – just a thicker layer. In the mirror I could still see no difference. Except that now my beauty mark had completely disappeared.
The next few days was quite normal – If you could call it normal to be held as a doll in a cabinet with a large, random working dildo in your vagina and being unable to move even an eyebrow. Well that was the routine. And I had begun to expect a new sister arriving to fill the empty cabinet No. 1. - But that was not what should happen. When Sunday came, Mr. Grey dragged a lot of materials together and started putting them together. He was assembling some strange device, of which I could not figure out the purpose. He worked more than an hour assembling pipes and fittings and much more I don't know the name of.
He had placed the device on a free spot on the floor, but I could see him working through the mirror. I couldn't figure out what the thing was meant for. There were moveable parts, and the whole thing could be folded. Sometimes he went away to collect another part or a tool, but finally he stretched out and took a step back to admire his work. He seemed satisfied. He folded and unfolded the device a few times, and then he came to my cabinet and opened the door.
“Your turn!” he said and winked. While he undid the cuffs and collar, he touched me where he had painted me and stroked my skin in different places all the time nodding and mumbling. “That should do!” he said. Then the bags were detached and he lifted me off the dildo and out of the cabinet. It dawned on me that the device was for me. - But I had expected to be put in a gift box like sister No. 1. Still I was more aroused than scared. And the feelings from being handled gave me a row of delicious shivers. And I couldn’t hide it from myself. I wanted to be used – to be touched – to be handled. I am not sure even if I wanted to go back. The chemical had definitely changed my personality.
Mr. Grey placed me in the middle of the device. It was fully unfolded. I was laid on my back and was supported by a broad curved seat below the waist. He installed a similar piece so that it closed together like a belt. However, this belt was made of soft padded steel. Also the collar and cuffs were padded steel. And when I was attached to the rack, it was precisely in those places where I was painted with extra layers. Maybe some kind of protection? Had I been made more hard-wearing? All parts were fastened with steel bolts. They could not be removed without tools! So, now I was trapped in this stand, still without knowing the purpose.
But the installation was not over yet. Now Mr. Grey connected all my tubes to a box on the side of the stand. I could not see any IV bags anywhere – and nor the other bags. All the hoses were installed on the box. Then he tipped a switch and a red light started flashing. But only briefly, then lit a green lamp that shone constantly. I suppose I was ready and functioning. I had become a device of some kind.
I was aware, that the way I was attached to the rack, I was lying on my back with arms and legs spread out like an open invitation. And almost as if Mr. Grey had read my thoughts, he unbuttoned his pants and leaned over me. As he looked into my eyes, he whispered: "This I have really been looking forward to!" Then he pushed his cock into me without meeting resistance. I immediately got my first orgasm. I guess I had been missing my dildo while he was working on me. His touches and manipulations had made me euphoric. But right now I was on cloud nine. I wished it would never stop. Out of the corner of my eye I could see several lights blinking on the box when Mr. Grey pushed into me. Especially a white light shone strongly whenever I got an orgasm. The box was able to register my bodily functions. I could also tell that my supports somehow followed my movements provoked by the sexual act. The rack thus also functioned as a kind of swing.
All too soon was it over. Mr. Grey stood up, sweaty and breathless. In the mirror I could see pearls of his sweat on my skin. Like my new skin would not accept the wetness but rejected it. Yes I believe Mr. Grey has provided me with a second skin. And now he has provided me with a rack, so that I can be used as a fuck-doll. The skin extension will make me last longer. Now I was thinking if I was going to be used a lot? - That would probably not be by Mr. Grey alone. He looked happy, but exhausted. He would not be fit the next couple of hours. - Me? - I was ready now! - I have become a slut. A whore just wishing for the next male to enter me... It doesn't even have to be a male. Just somebody who would care to touch me. Touch me anywhere – everywhere....
Mr. Grey wiped the sweat from his forehead and from my body. He kept on sweating though, but my skin came out dry and clean. Looked as good as new. He smiled and said: “You are just perfect!” - I liked to be perfect. But even more I wanted another round... Mr. Grey began to manipulate the device. He adjusted it here and there, and then he moved one section and thereby moving my arms and legs. He rotated the whole thing and suddenly I was positioned on hands and knees – like a doggy pose. With my neck bent back, I looked straight ahead and into the mirror. He took an item out of a box and pressed it into my mouth. It came to rest on my teeth and could not move further in. It held my tongue down and my mouth wide open.
In the mirror I could see that I now had available holes in both ends. I know I should not, but honestly I wanted Mr. Grey to test the new function. But he was apparently not through the setting me up. Once again he manipulated the rack and made me kind of sit with legs apart. Like if I was riding somebody. Still offering my mouth, but now with head up and upper body slightly forward. He made the device pose me in a few more positions before he was satisfied. Then he folded it until I was nearly pressed into fetal position, and the whole thing took up no more space than a large suitcase. I had my nose between my knees and my heels pressed in the buttocks.
I was moved towards a crate. And into the crate. And that was when I heard the truck engine. I realized I was getting packed for shipment. I had then been sold! I had been sold as a fuck doll device. I tried to be angry, but I couldn't. I was actually looking forward to my new life – whatever that would hold.
Before Mr. Grey closed and sealed the crate, he said: “I am going to miss you!” And he sent me a sad smile.
End.
22.01.12